


Sharing a Bed With Severus

by meditationsinemergencies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Facebook: The Pen15 is Mightier, Fairly sappy, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Love in the Time of Quarantine, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26139748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationsinemergencies/pseuds/meditationsinemergencies
Summary: Severus and Hermione find themselves quarantined in a hotel room together...with one bed.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 22
Kudos: 224
Collections: Pen15 Challenge 13: Love in the Time of Quarantine





	Sharing a Bed With Severus

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to The Pen15 is Mightier for this bi-monthly challenge. I really loved writing these two.
> 
> Also, this fic was a hot-ass mess for a long time because after my [One Hundred Days of Drabble](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23554714/chapters/56505967) my brain seemed to stop functioning when it came to writing. I am very thankful to have had [KrumPuffer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/krumpuffer/profile) to help me figure out this damn thing and [adavison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adavison/profile) for turning my chaos into something great and always letting me force my work upon her.

Every spring, in the historic Salem Grand Hotel in Massachusetts, witches and wizards from around the world gathered for the annual Potion Master's Symposium. The hotel was large and beautiful. It accommodated both those who were muggles and magical. Hermione had obsessively looked at the pictures on her laptop when the Ministry told her she would be presenting at the conference. The rooms had exposed brick! Large garden tubs! Lush beds! She was  _ so _ excited. She didn't know the Ministry was so willing to foot the bill for a more expensive, luxurious suite, but she was thankful they had. On top of the rooms, the conference rooms were equally exquisite, and, from the looks of it, their other amenities--food, coffees, and teas seemed equally lovely. This was a trip she was certainly elated for. Not only was she excited to present, but she would also get to attend some very informative and educational presentations. 

However, when Hermione Granger—sitting alone at her table in her assigned conference room—read the latest headline in the Daily Prophet, she knew things were about to take a turn for the worse: 

_ Muggle Virus Spreads to Magical Community World Wide _

She was about to continue reading when there was a tap on her shoulder. Turning, the man who checked her into the hotel, a small-statured wizard was standing there. The wizard cleared his throat, "Uhm. Miss Granger? We need to speak about some pressing matters."

He sat down with her, his hands folded on the tabletop. "MACUSA, as well as all European Ministries of Magic, have locked down the movement of all witches and wizards until they can get a better grasp on this virus—what it is and how it's spreading. They are requesting that everyone at the conference remain here. We are trying to quarantine people. Stop the spread of the virus.”

Hermione nodded in understanding and began to speak, but he quickly continued, “However, not everyone was staying the night here, you see, some Apparated home, some…"

Hermione gave him a look urging him to move along with his larger point. 

"Anyway, we have to accommodate everyone in the hotel. Witches. Wizards. Staff. Some  No-Maj,  believe it or not. To do this, we are having to have people room together. Otherwise, we don’t have the space…”

"I thought we were trying to quar—”

The wizard held up a hand, "Yes. Yes. The virus. This is why we're requiring everyone to share a room with their travel companion or colleagues in their presentation. You're presenting alone. However, you did travel with…"

The small wizard glanced up, clearly looking at someone who had walked up behind her. 

"Me," said a deep baritone voice she knew all too well.

Hermione did a dry swallow as she turned around and made eye contact with Severus Snape. Her former professor, surprise Death Eater hero, her sometimes colleague at the Ministry when she was doing potions research, and her begrudging travel companion. 

She let out a deep sight and turned to the small wizard, "I have to share a room with…?" Her mouth was slightly ajar as she searched for what to call him.  _ Severus? Professor Snape? Mr Snape?  _

The wizard nodded, "Yes, miss."

"For how long?"

The wizard shrugged, "Until our two governments say otherwise. We're shutting down the conference. You and Mr Snape will be confined to your rooms. We will provide meals magically three times a day. You are not to leave. That’s the mandate. I’m sorry. If you'll excuse me, I have others to inform of the change."

***

Severus Snape watched as she began to silently gather her things. He wasn't happy about this arrangement, and he knew she wasn't either. If he were being honest, he felt worse for her than anything. She likely loathed him. He didn't have concrete evidence of this, but he knew she probably did; she had every reason to. 

For starters, he had been a real bastard to her when she was younger—he didn't need, nor want to list all the mean things he had said and done to her. He was a former Death Eater; he never apologised for any of his past behaviours, but, the biggest thing, was that he'd never thanked her for coming back to the Shack for him. 

Admittedly, he had held a certain disdain for her right after the war ended. He had been completely prepared to die. He hadn't wanted to testify in court, but once he did, once he was cleared, he  _ was  _ grateful. And yet, he had never said that to her, never even made any inclination that he cared about her existence or her impact on his life in the slightest. This was because, as he'd be the first to admit, he was a complete fucker who had no idea how to accept or show sincere kindness or compassion or gratitude, and, thus, he did not attempt those things. He believed himself to be far too old at this point to change anything about himself. He had grown content with the idea of being alone—no friends, no lovers, no family. Just him. And, after years of being driven to the brink of madness by Lord Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore he was okay with being alone. 

Now, however, he was being forced into a bizarre quarantine with Miss Hermione Granger for who knows how long. He  _ knew  _ that she would be optimistic about it; she probably would believe that the Ministry had their best interest at heart and that they'd be back in their respective homes in Jolly-Ole England by the weekend, but she was not jaded. Severus knew that this would last far longer than anyone anticipated and the Ministry only had themselves in mind—no one else. 

He sighed as he watched the young woman shuffling her things together; her curls pinned up with a quill atop her head. 

Cleaning his throat, he hoped to get her attention. She turned and, with a small, minuscule smile, looked up at him, her eyebrows raised slightly—questioningly. 

"I will see you in the room." He nodded swiftly and left the conference room.

***

When she opened the room to her— _ no, their _ —hotel room, she found him sitting at the small table. He looked ridiculous there. His long legs spread out, his arms appeared gangly resting upon the tabletop. She almost laughed at the sight of such a big man at such a small table. 

He looked up from what he was reading, and she noticed he had on a pair of reading glasses. Shockingly, she felt her heart jump at the sight of him being so human, so normal. She knew the man had his flaws, but, to her, he'd still always seemed super-human: His intelligence, his presence, his domineering nature, his height—even the size of his nose, it all made him seem other-worldly to her. The fact that he'd been practically dead and was the only known person to survive the level of attack he received from Nagini, added to that fact. 

With his head, he motioned to a stack of papers and packages on the bed. 

Turning, she observed the piles. "What's all that?"

He smirked a little, "Read it." His tone wasn't harsh but humoured.

Hermione picked up the envelope with her name on it and began to read. Speaking to her new roommate but not looking at him she said, “How are we supposed to fit a potions lab in here? How am I supposed to do all the writing I have to do with a potions lab in the hotel room?”

“Keep reading,” She heard him say.

Her eyes scanned the letter, “Magic quota? Do we have a magic quota? Your potions will take up all of the room’s quota. When does this start, we need to transform the furniture before…”

Not looking up from what he was reading he said, “Read the other letter.”

The next envelope was addressed to both of them and had already been opened, she assumed by Snape. This one was from the hotel. She turned around to face him, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

He shook his head, “No. I’ve tried. Watch.” Snape lazily lifted his wand and muttered a spell, flicking his wand towards the bed. Hermione stared at the lovely plush bed she’d slept in the night before and felt her stomach lurch when, well, nothing happened. 

Her mouth fell open and she looked up at the ceiling trying to contain her frustrations. 

“So, here’s what’s going on, and, please, correct me if I’m wrong: We have to stay here in this hotel room  _ together  _ per the Ministry’s mandate for however long. We have to work. We are only allowed to use so much magic. We cannot transfigure any of the furniture in the room due to restrictions placed on the furniture per the hotel management, meaning that not only do we have to share a room, but we also have to share a bed.”

She sat on the bed, lying the letter beside her. Snape nodded slowly, “As always, Miss Granger. Top of the class.”

Hermione absent-mindedly pulled a strand of hair out of its proper place and began to furiously twirl it between her fingers. She was brought out of her thoughts when Snape cleared his throat, “I need to set up my lab. I’ll have to set up in the bathroom, I think. The bathtub will be best for cauldrons and I can control the temperature there better.”

With this Hermione flopped back onto the bed, now she had to give up her bathtub, too.

***

He set up a small, but functioning lab the best that he could in the bathroom. This wasn’t as intrusive as it might seem considering the layout of the bathroom, and they still had the shower to use. 

They passed most of the first day in total silence; he read and worked on some new potions while Hermione also read. He stayed put in the too-small uncomfortable chair while she sat upright and stiff on what he assumed was now her side of the bed. 

As promised lunch was magically delivered to their room and then dinner. Severus was not looking forward to bedtime and whatever uncomfortable awkward things that it would bring. 

As the hours crept by and night settled in, Severus cleared his throat, “This is uncomfortable for me, too, Miss Granger.”

Hermione looked up from her book and glared at him, “Is it now?” 

Severus hesitated, his jaw clenched. “Yes. I have...I’ve never slept with anyone before.” He paused considering what he’d just said, “As in, I’ve never shared a bed and slept all night with someone.”

He watched as her face seemed to soften somewhat and a small “Oh,” escaped from between her lips. 

“Why is that?” she inquired. 

He slipped off his boots; he realized he’d been wearing them all day and his feet seemed terribly uncomfortable. He shrugged at her, “Why do you think, Miss Granger? Surely you can figure it out.”

She blushed at this and looked down at her book again. He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed facing the wall. “Miss Granger…” he began.

He heard her say, “Sir?” 

He turned and looked at her over his shoulder, “I’m not your professor, don’t call me ‘sir’, and...tell me how to proceed—I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

She bit her lip slightly before speaking, “I go to bed late, more often than not. We should just...go about our usual routines. I think...I think this’ll work out fine. We both enjoy reading and working and...I can not ask you a ton of questions which I know from past experience annoys you and I won’t prattle on like I’m doing now, which I also know annoys you. So, I’ll go first? I’m going to put on my pyjamas as brush my teeth and read or maybe flip through the telly.” 

He watched as she stood up, grabbed a black slender rectangle and tossed in on the bed. “Find us something to watch.”

He stared at the device. He knew it was a remote control, as he never wanted to be one of those wizards who was so far removed from Muggle technology that it became a hindrance to him. He pressed the red button that he assumed to be the power button and began to flip through the channels while he listened to her get ready for bed.

He looked at her out of his peripheral vision as she walked past him and onto the other side of the bed— _ her side of the bed _ . She had pulled her hair back into a ponytail and she wore a cotton navy blue and white striped pyjama set. 

Looking at her he felt comforted, as she looked so wholesome, so comfortable, so relaxed. He imagined that this was how she’d look if he weren’t here, that she’d settle into the same spot on the bed, that she’d flip through the telly for a while, that she’d nuzzle into the pillow and rest before another day presenting at the conference. 

She got into bed and smiled at him, “Your turn.” 

Mimicking her from earlier, he tossed the remote over to her, rummaged through his bag and went to the bathroom. He normally slept in boxers and his undershirt. Could he do that now? He wasn’t sure. Were boxers overly revealing? She said to go about things like normal. He sighed and with a quick flick of his wand, keeping in mind the magic quota, transfigured his boxers into pyjama pants. He pulled his hair back with a hair band at the nape of his neck, brushed his teeth, washed his face, and stared at himself for a while in the mirror. 

He was so derailed by this whole situation. He had never shared a bed with a woman before while sleeping and, now, he was being forced to do it by the Ministry, forced to do it with Hermione Granger no less, who seemed to be fairly at ease as the day had passed. Finally, he left the bathroom. As he made his way back to  _ his  _ side of the bed, he saw that Hermione had fallen asleep. He breathed a sigh of relief, realizing he didn’t have to deal with the uncomfortableness of it all for several more hours.

He slowly and gently got into bed and under the covers. He pulled the remote from her hand gently, she’d fallen asleep holding it, and began to flip through the channels, settling on a cooking show, which he enjoyed immensely. As sleep finally began to consume him, he switched off the telly, set the remote on the table beside him and glanced, once more, at the woman sleeping next to him. He curled up on his side facing away from her, as to give her as much privacy as possible, even in their sleep, and slowly, but surely, sleep took him. 

***

Hermione woke up confused and startled at the noise of someone groaning; it sounded as if this person were trying to scream but something was jammed into their mouth stopping it from escaping. It took her a few minutes to remember where she was and who it was next to her. 

She reached out her hand to touch him, to wake him up, but immediately realized that perhaps she shouldn’t. She knew this man far too well for that. He never had even mentioned the fact that she’d saved his life, according to Harry he never had mentioned anything like that in their few encounters, he never even said anything to Harry about Harry’s testimony in court vouching for Snape’s character. Hermione recognized that she and Severus were getting along just fine and she feared that if she woke him if she comforted him then all of that would go out the window, that he’d be angry with her, and the last thing she wanted was to be stuck in a room for Merlin knows how long with Severus Snape while he was angry. 

She rolled over and faced away from him, thinking that, perhaps, her own movements would wake him. For a moment, she thought she’d solved the problem, but his groans turned into gibberish mixed with words she could decipher. He began to say, “Please, no,” over and over again and Hermione felt her eyes prickle with tears. She, herself, had dealt with nightmares, so it only made sense that someone like Snape, someone who had been through Merlin knows what would also have them. Slowly his nightmare faded away and he was silent again; after what felt like hours, but was only half an hour, Hermione fell back to sleep herself.

*******

Severus woke up early, as usual. The Muggle clock, which he had to admit was extremely convenient compared to casting a charm to tell the time, read 5:15 am. He rolled onto his back and stretched out, his back creaking and popping, all his joints sore—the years of being cursed time and time again had ghastly effects on the body, not only were his joints and muscles and bones sore, his body had a hard time regulating its temperature which meant sometimes he was absurdly hot and other times absurdly cold. Usually, though, he was just sore all over. 

He flexed from his hips through his thighs and knees and to his ankles and feet, as he stretched his right foot, his toes slightly grazed the warm calve of Hermione Granger. 

Startled he quickly moved his foot and leg and glanced over at her with a dry swallow. His throat, too, was always sore in the mornings—a lovely reminder of Nagini's attack. Looking at the woman next to him, he saw she was curled up on her side facing away from him, and she'd moved down the bed some, which was why her calves were in reach. Her hair, which had been nearly packed onto a bun was now loose, errant curls springing out every which way. 

She seemed to be sleeping well, and he didn't want to wake her, but he also wasn't sure what else to do with himself. He laid there for half an hour, and when the clock read 5:45, he got up, and went to the bathroom to shave, shower, dress, and begin his day. Severus thrived in a regimented routine, and he didn't plan on changing the routine much just because they were quarantined to this room. 

Their days passed in a haze and began to blend together. Severus always woke first and began to work—at first he didn’t go out of his way to be quiet for her as she slept, he noticed she slept later than he expected, but, over time, he waited to get up and begin his work, he would lie in bed and read or write in his potions journal beside her as she slept. 

As time passed, he would catch himself paying less and less attention to what he was reading or writing and more attention to her. He tried not to look at her, to not notice how the sunlight peeking in shimmered in her curls, highlighting golden and auburn hues within the chestnut brown; he tried not to admire the freckles on her shoulders, and he tried not to wonder about whether or not there were any freckles hidden beneath the straps of her tank-top. 

She often woke up right before nine, and Severus would get out of bed not long before then, as to let her wake up in peace, as to not wake up to him gawking at her out of the corner of his eye.

They’d have breakfast as they read the paper and briefly chatted before they both set to their work. Their evenings were spent with them both reading, and they spent a shocking amount of time watching television together. It became one of Severus’ favourite times of the day. They alternated each day who got to choose what they watched—it ranged from cooking competitions to sitcoms, to game shows. The pair particularly enjoyed Family Feud and Jeopardy. He was impressed with her knowledge of Muggle things, and she was equally impressed with his. Eventually, he’d fall asleep before her, and she would follow him and not long after his nightmares would start. 

Severus knew he had nightmares, he did not, however, know that he said or did things in his sleep. Had he known he would have been deeply embarrassed, ashamed; the fact that he was so plagued by his past was his cross to bear. He’d once toyed with the idea of taking a dreamless sleep potion, but he knew it would simply lead to addiction, and, frankly, that was the last thing he needed—to be reliant on something other than himself. 

He was always so relieved when he woke up, and now he found that he was not only relieved but excited to wake up, to glance over and see Hermione lying there. He felt as if they had formed a pleasant friendship. Normally, you didn’t sleep nightly next to your friends, but the situation was an exception, and he figured he might as well enjoy what they had. He was certain that once this quarantine ended, once they returned to London, she would go back to her normal life and Severus would not be a part of it, but he was grateful for what they had at the moment. Their content, quarantine friendship. 

***

His nightmares happened every single night, they weren’t just occasional. Sometimes, they were simple—he’d cry out something inaudible, his body would jerk, he would whimper. Other times, they were more like night terrors—detailed conversations, and even though Hermione only heard his side of them, they scared her, made her heart hurt, and a few times made her cry. 

She knew when he had the night terrors, that it would be dangerous to both him and her to wake him, and so together, without him knowing, they rode the violent waves of his past together. 

Each of these nights pulled her closer towards him as if he were Odysseus—shipwrecked and lost at sea, and she was Ino, coming to wrap him in her veil. When she laid in the dark listening to him, she felt her heart spreading and spilling onto the sheets they shared, the inches between them closing. When she awoke in the mornings, he would be reading or writing, and she wanted to speak up, she wanted to say anything to let him know that she was there for him, but she didn’t know how.

As their lock-down in America rolled into its third month, Hermione began to study him, to try and track his nightmares, she noticed that they seemed to have gotten worse in the past few weeks, a crescendo of screaming and sweating and flailing. She began to do research, requesting books about curses and healing along with the other things she had sent from the Ministry for work, and she recognized his symptoms as not just being night-terrors or PTSD, but aftershocks of the Cruciatus curse. 

Hermione had minimal aftershocks from the few times she was Cruccioed, her joints would ache, occasionally she’d get a fever. She wondered, then, how often Snape was in physical pain, and when he was screaming in his sleep, it wasn’t just necessarily from a nightmare, but because of actual pain—or, perhaps, a combination of both. If she knew anything about the Cruciatus curse, it was that, soon enough, Snape was going to have to show his pain to her in the light of day.

It didn’t take long, a few more evenings and his pain became evident during the day. Hermione awoke one morning to find that Severus was still in bed with her—not reading or writing, just lying there. His eyes were shut tight as if he were a child who was being forced to go to bed. Hermione rolled onto her side, tentatively she reached out her fingers and gently rested them upon his arm. He flinched at her touch and her heart sank. "Severus. We need to get you into the bath." 

He shook his head no. She sighed, "Yes. I'm sure you have some potions that we can use to loosen your muscles, plus the hot water will help. These aftershocks will lessen if we can force your physical body to relax. 

She got out of the bed and went over to his side, she grabbed his hand and tugged gently. He grimaced and held up a hand. "I can get up on my own. Please. Let me."

Stepping back she watched as he slowly moved into an upright position. She took this moment to run into the bathroom. There in the tub were all his supplies. She got out her wand, it had been some time since she used magic due to the quota, but she thought to hell with it, and cast a spell to downsize all his supplies until they were small enough to rest on the countertop. She ran the bath and went through the supplies on the counter, adding whatever was necessary to the water. 

Severus stepped into the bathroom, and she suddenly was a bit unsure of her plan. Was she to undress him? Wash him? She didn't know.

Thankfully he spoke first. "If you could just listen for me. If I need your help, I'll call you."

She nodded and turned to leave the bathroom when she heard him clear his voice and say, "Thanks."

Hermione looked at him over her shoulder and smiled weakly before stepping out into their room.

****

Severus sank into the water. He felt ashamed and embarrassed that Hermione had seen him in such a state, and he was extremely curious as to what had led her conclusion but only for a moment as his mind and body began to relax in the water. 

He hoped that if he stayed in the water long enough then he'd be able to get out of the bathtub by himself. He didn't want to expose her to his naked body, as he was certain it was bad enough that she had to lie next to him every night.

The oils in the water made his head feed light and fuzzy as if he'd had a very strong drink. He hadn't felt this way in a long time, and he was happy to lie there and think of her: how pretty and dainty she looked while she slept, but how intense she was when she spoke. He even once chuckled to himself in the bath, the sound of his laugh must have startled Hermione as she was quick as the door, and asking, "Are you ok? Do you need my help?"

He chucked again and replied, "No, Miss Granger. There's no need in subjecting you to this sight. I'm fine. Go." 

She hesitated and then he heard her step away from the door.

He let himself lie in the water a bit longer, the buzzed feeling wearing down. Now he felt more tired than anything else, and while he felt that his body wasn't as tense anymore, he was still in a lot of pain. 

Draining the water, he slowly got out of the tub. He realized, as he was drying off, that he didn't have any clothes; he wrapped the towel around his waist and peered out the door. 

"Will you hand me a shirt and boxers, please." 

He looked in the floor-length mirror and saw Hermione spring out of bed. 

When he reemerged dressed, she was there with her hands on her hips.

"You need to get back into bed, Severus." 

"What?" he inquired.

She pointed at him, "I know you're going to fight me, but let's just get through today together. Let me help you. I'll never tell anyone. Even though it's nothing to be ashamed of, I mean for Merl—"

He cut her off by holding up a hand. She grew silent and he simply nodded and climbed into the bed. 

He absolutely did not want her assisting him in any way, not for any reason other than the fact that he didn't want to burden her. But he was extremely weary and extremely tired, and he figured letting her boss him around wasn't all that bad. 

She took out her wand and cast a cooling spell on the bed, he felt it ripple beneath him. He smiled a bit to himself. It was clear she knew this treatment very well, that exposing his body from one extreme temperature to the next was the best way to work the curse out of his muscles and ligaments and joints.

He raised an eyebrow, "Magic quota."

She grimaced, "Bollocks. Well, you're not brewing today so there's that. Also, I'm Hermione Granger."

"We're in America."

"So?"

He smirked and shrugged, sinking into the sheets. He was surprised when she walked over and got into bed with him. She was still in her pyjamas, as it was early morning. Her shorts wrinkled, her top askew, a few buttons undone, and Severus tried not to notice more than once a flash of her breasts beneath the top. He wasn't sure when she had grown comfortable with not sleeping with a bra on while sleeping next time him; he was certain she had worn one early on. He shut his eyes and tried to not think about her tan warm skin—how it would feel against him, how it smelled of honey and cinnamon, how it probably tasted that way, too. 

At first, he thought he'd fallen asleep when he felt her hands against his skin. She said softly, "Don't pull away. Just let me help." 

He swallowed hard and pried his mouth open to speak, "How did you know?"

He heard her sigh, his eyes still shut, and her hands were no longer resting upon him, but rubbing him, gently squeezing, and caressing his muscles. 

"You have fits."

His eyes opened for a moment before fluttering shut again. "I what?"

She continued to work her fingers into his shoulders and he thought he could melt at her touch. "At night, you cry out or have conversations or, I don't know how else to explain it, they're fits—you jerk and kick, small tense movements." 

"You never woke me."

"Well, no. At first, I thought they were nightmares and knew waking you and calling attention to this would just make you angry, then I thought they were night terrors and knew it was dangerous to wake you, and then I realized that they were the after-effects of curses, mostly the Cruciatis, and I knew that waking you was not the best idea. I simply had to wait until...well, I suppose I had to wait until you  _ needed _ me."

Her hands had moved to his calves, as she worked her way up his legs. 

"It seems I am quite reliant on you." 

"Hmmm?"

"You came back."

It dawned on her what he was referring to. "Of course I did. Anyone would have."

"Only you are the one who did."

"Yes, well, I suppose I do care about you."

He scoffed and the pair grew silent.

***

Hermione found that his legs were the tensest. His thighs were strong and she suspected he didn't have an ounce of fat from the hips down—all muscle. 

As she worked her fingers into his thighs, taking one thigh at a time, she found herself becoming aroused. A weight settled in her belly and a faint twinge bubbled at her centre. She found her breathing was slow and deliberate and occasionally, Severus would let a groan escape his lips. She had asked, the first time it happened, if she'd hurt him, to which he replied, "It hurts in a good way."

She nodded in reply and continued to massage the knots in his muscles. He had to position his legs so that more of his inner thighs were exposed, and Hermione felt herself dampen her panties at the position he was in, and she had the urge to put him in her mouth. 

The pads of her fingers danced across his skin and with a slight movement of her hand across his body, her wrist grazed his hardened cock. She was pleased to feel it; it made her feel powerful—her hands, her fingers and palms, made him hard. She smirked to herself and glanced up at him, his eyes still shut, but, otherwise, he looked completely relaxed. 

She didn't think long about before she'd decided to press her lips to his covered torso. Moving up his body, she kissed his cheek tenderly. Her lips pressed to his ear and she whispered, "Relax. Ok?" He nodded against her cheek, his eyes still shut and she kissed him. 

***

The feel of her hands against him had been almost too much as it were, and her lips upon his were enough to make him explode. She was soft and, he was right, there was a subtle taste of cinnamon and honey to her. Her lips met him slowly, languidly, as if they had all the time in the world. 

He refused to look at her, however, fearful that if he opened his eyes he'd wake up, that whatever this was would vanish. Severus had never known physical affection in such a tender form. As a child and adolescent, he rarely received it, and as a grown man all the sexual relationships he had were far from intimate—they were quick and rough, with the sole intent of orgasm and nothing else. 

The kissing that was happening now this was better than any fuck he'd ever had in his life. This made him feel cocooned in her. 

He hadn't the slightest idea what to do with his hands in such a situation, and, again, he was terrified that if he touched her she'd be pulled from whatever possessed her to kiss him in the first place.

Fortunately for him, he didn't have to ponder about it long, as he felt Hermione pull away from his lips. Her mouth, however, was still upon him, placed against his jaw and then his neck. He felt her hands travel down her body and he couldn't help but gasp and groans simultaneously when she gripped his hardened cock beneath his boxers. She stroked him slowly, and he couldn't imagine how it could feel any better until she positioned her face between his thighs. 

The feeling of her warm mouth upon him was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Sure, he’d gotten a blow job or two before, but it was always about something else—the revel they were participating in, trying to get closer to the Malfoys or the Dark Lord, whatever it was, it was never really about him, and it never seemed to be something the giver wanted to do for anything pleasurable between them. Hermione, however, mewed softly as she took him into her mouth and it was clear that she, for some reason he couldn’t comprehend, wanted to be doing this. 

A few times he tried to coerce her up to him, insisting she let him kiss her, please her, too, but she shook her head vigorously and stated, her voice huskier than usual, that this...this was for him. He conceded and let her over-take him. 

After Hermione laid next to him, far closer than they usually laid together, she rolled onto her side. He rolled himself towards her and reached for her, resting his hand upon her waist and began to pull her towards him when, with command, she stated, “Later. You need to sleep. Your body needs to rest. Don’t pretend otherwise.” 

She shut her eyes and rested her hand on his arm. He watched her for a few moments and noted the moment she fell asleep, the slowness of her breath. He furrowed his brows and with a wry smile shut his eyes, too, feeling very excited for when they awoke.

  
  



End file.
